


TV FICLETS

by millygal



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Crack, Ficlet Collection, Gen, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-13
Updated: 2017-04-13
Packaged: 2018-10-18 10:10:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10614738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/millygal/pseuds/millygal
Summary: Yesterday I wrote a short dialogue only piece between Sam and Dean, whilst Dean is watching Ally McBeal. fanspired was the only person who got the references and so we started chatting, I said perhaps I should do a series of fics where they're simply watching tv shows...She enabled and encouraged with DO IT DO IT and a list of shows. Silly Silly Lady! ;) I'm not guaranteeing I'll get all your suggestions done honey, lol!The first show she suggested was a cooking show *ahem*





	1. I Bet You Give Great Hair.

"No."

"But, Sammy..."

"No!"

But, Sammy, she said giving 'hair' was something like..."

"NO!"

"But if anyone can give good hair it's you..."

**"NO!"**

"Fine! *pouts*"

"That is the very LAST time you're allowed to watch Ally McBeal unsupervised."

"...what about a little kneepit action?"

" ***headdesk*** "


	2. Fuckin' Gordon Ramsay!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Masterchef, Kansas.

Sam stumbles into the kitchen in search of blessed caffeine and is hit square in the face with a violent puff of flour. Wiping the cloying dust from his eyes and nose, a picture emerges that fills him with utter dread. "What the hell, Dean?!?"

Stood at the kitchen counter wearing his 'Kiss The Chef' apron and a dangerously determined expression, Dean's fiddling with the volume nob on their portable television and swearing like a sailor on leave. "Come on Gordon, don't be such a fuckin' douche, it's not like they've ever made the damned dish before. Give 'em a break would ya?"

Sam's still trying to ruffle flour from his hair as he begins to notice the complete carnage that used to be their very tidy kitchen. "Dean, what exactly _are_ you trying to do in here? Create a Jackson Pollock with food?!"

Spinning on the spot, taking in spilled sauces and broken jars of oddly coloured concoctions, coupled with the steady stream of cussing coming from the corner Dean's standing in, which by now is simply a huge billowing cloud of flour something akin to Pig-Pen's dust trail, Sam finds himself backing out the room slowly.

With no thought or preamble, Sam tucks tail and runs in the opposite direction, knowing that to be stuck between Dean and one of his knew **projects** is like being caught by a playful Brown Bear; cute in theory, painful in reality.

The sound of glass shattering and Dean's inventive and varied use of the word _fuck_ follows Sam back up the stairs and he's suddenly itching to find them a new case.


	3. Sing It Sister.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because Dean's an expert on anything musical, not.

"Seriously, come **on**. The guy can't sing for toffee and you're tellin' me you're gonna put him through to the next round?! Idiot!"

Sam's not entirely sure he _wants_ to know what Dean's watching, but judging by his taste in TV lately and the distinct sounds of things being thrown at the set, he's going to have to investigate just for his own peace of mind.

Gently nudging the door to Dean's room open, Sam hears what can only be described as a bag of cats being wind-milled above someone's head."De...what ya watching?"

Dean doesn't hear Sam, too incensed by the travesty playing out in front of him, making his ears bleed and his toes curl. "You call that judging? God I miss Sharon!"

The pile of pillows, shoes and random weaponry surrounding Dean's television set give Sam some kind of inkling as to just how annoyed he is with the truly terrible choice in contestants being put through to the live shows.

Sam's about to walk away and leave Dean to his ire when something occurs to him and he can't help needling his brother. Stepping fully in to the room he taps Dean on the shoulder. "What do you _mean_ you **miss** Sharon? How long have you been watching this trash?"

Without turning around or taking his eyes from the car crash happening in front of him, Dean waves a hand in Sam's general direction and laughs out loud. "About the same amount of time you've been sneaking off to the local library and watching live streams of Big Brother. The irony!"


	4. Little Fingers, Little Gloves.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean, you promised!

The sound of wet sweaty flesh slapping and the accompanying groans bring Sam up short as he walks by Dean's room. "What the fuck?"

Dean's whispered, "Jesus Christ." is doing some truly interesting things to his legs and Sam's resting on the precipice between jealous and curious.

Last he checked Dean was perfectly satisfied with their extra curricular activities and hasn't gone _looking_ for cheap thrills for a very long time. So to have those sounds emanating from his brother's room is kind of torturous.

Not entirely sure he wants to **know** , Sam leans up against the wall next to Dean's door and listens, hoping to catch a glimpse into what he's going to find when he walks in the room.

Heavy breathing is only broken by the vibration of Dean's growls, a sound Sam's come to enjoy so much that it can push him passed the point of no return even sat in the middle of no-name diners whilst his brother mercilessly teases him from across their table.

Sam's reaches boiling point, slams both palms flat against Dean's door, shoving his way inside the room, only to be brought up short by the scene unfolding in front of him.

Dean's lounging against the head of his bed, legs spread, knees bent, jeans unbuttoned and bunched around his thighs.

Hand wrapped tightly around his cock, fingers flexing on every downward stroke, Dean's completely unaware of Sam's big entrance. His attention is completely taken by the action happening on his tiny television screen.

Sam can see wide expanses of beautifully smooth soft skin. Sweat slicked and covered in a thin sheen of saliva. He's about to ream Dean out for watching porn without him when he realises it isn't just generic filth, it's a show, a British TV show.

He recognises some of the characters from his 'to-watch' list of shows and his cock is instantly ram rod straight; poking out above the waistband of his jeans and twitching. "Is this...is this Queer as Folk?"

Dean's violent nod and tightened fist force Sam to start ripping at his own clothing. "You promised you wouldn't watch this without me! Aiden Gillen is just so fuckin' hot."

"There's nothing _little_ about that finger!"


End file.
